Unbidden Rescue
by Amulet Joker
Summary: "Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hopes bitterly that saving Millie was worth it, and that they had made it out alive. Millie because she was just caught in the crossfire, and David so Griffin could wring his fuckin' neck, the fuckin' wanker—" David/Griffin if you squint.


Griffin finds he can barely feel his mouth anymore, the parched and dry feeling of being left in the sun for too many hours spreading from his lips to his chest as he remains trapped in the electrical lines currently inhibiting any form of escape. His arms are raw from the cords, and burning from the sun through his leather jacket, his ankle twisted painfully despite his many attempts to free it. Griffin can hardly feel his shoulders either, strained and weak from holding himself aloft for so long. At first, he had gone limp to play opossum, to steer any soldiers from either side away from him, but by the time the battle had moved on, he had realized he had neither the strength nor the will to keep upright.

He is not sure how long it has been since David left him for dead, not having a clue as to the time when they'd landed in Chechnya, but he has already yelled himself hoarse with curses and swears to the American. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hopes bitterly that saving Millie was worth it, and that they had made it out alive. Millie because she was just caught in the crossfire, and David so Griffin could wring his fuckin' neck, the fuckin' wanker—

Griffin clenches his teeth and twitches as another current jolts through him, hands fisting where they're trapped in the cables. He is not expecting the American to return (David couldn't be that stupid, could he?), but half of Griffin hopes he does, so they can settle the fight on even grounds, though the other half of him reminds himself that if David were to return now, he'd only see Griffin at the weakest he's been in years. Surely if he _was_ stupid enough to come back, David would finish him off before rejoining his awaiting girlfriend.

It takes Griffin a long few moments to realize the sound of the fight is drawing near again, opening his eyes just slightly to find soldiers from both sides approaching his... hiding spot, but staying far enough away that he is in no danger of being found. He closes his eyes again, not allowing himself to give up completely, not yet, but with the sun showing no sign of setting, and a dry throat that threatens to gag him at any moment, he allows himself a few more moments of rest.

He vaguely considers trying to Jump again, just to try now that it had been a... while since his last shock, but his survival instinct quickly quashes that idea, realizing the attempt could very well kill him. Though, he supposes vaguely, perhaps that would be a better way to die than roasting in the Russian sun.

Fate seems to be deciding for him, the destroyed metal structure around him starting to creak and shake as if barely holding itself up. The movements spark more currents, pulling a raw sound from Griffin's throat that he will be ashamed of later, if he survives the fall he is about to take.

Though his ankle is blissfully shaken loose, Griffin squeezes his eyes closed and starts to tremble, never having been so afraid of death as he is at that moment. If only he had trusted his instinct not to let David in, not to try and help him, if only he had listened to himself that he would only get left in the dust again, but the tearing in the Jumper's chest at being _betrayed_ again leaves him reeling far too quickly to properly kick himself for his mistakes.

The steal beams around him shudder and groan, Griffin feeling them slowly start to lose their balance and support, crumpling under an increasing weight. Griffin tries to swallow, but his throat sticks in on itself and causes him to choke instead, and he barely has time to recover before the steal under him gives out completely, Griffin inhaling a sharp, painful breath.

He fully expects to hit the dirt and feel himself being crushed by the supports, but just as he is sure he will hit the ground, he hears an indiscernible shout before feeling the distinct pull of a Jump. He's not sure where he lands, but his feet are on the ground though his legs won't hold him up, his arm around someone's neck while their own arm seems to be latched around his waist. This someone is talking to him in a way that should be familiar, but Griffin is a bit preoccupied with the fact he can _breathe_ without the cords and wires wrapped too-tightly around his chest. It is a strange feeling after so long, still not having gotten use to it by the time his savior is tucking their free arm user his knees and lifting him from the ground completely.

Griffin groans once, never having felt so sore as he tries to focus on the face above him, blue eyes looking concerned and half-scared down at him. "Griffin? Griffin, can you hear me?"

David. Of course it's David.

Griffins struggles for a moment to paste on a sneer, though the bite behind it is rather ruined by the fact the American is the only thing holding him up right now. "An' what the fuck are you doin' here?" he demands, voice much stronger than he'd believed it would have been, giving himself a pat on the back for it.

David looks over him uncertainly, as if both assessing damage, and avoiding an answer. "I don't want you to die, Griffin." The snort that leaves Griffin's chest is broken at best, but his intention is clear despite the flicker of pain he's sure just crossed his expression. "You don't believe me."

No, really?

David watches Griffin for a moment longer, then sighs and looks around, before tightening his grip on the smaller man, and Jumping somewhere quickly cooling with the fading day. Despite himself, Griffin takes eager gulps of the cool, moist air that offers at least some comfort to his sun-baked skin and cracked lips. He feels the familiar twinge in his bones that he should be fighting David, that he should be Jumping back to his lair, or his other hideaway, but even he knows when to admit he is too weak and broken to even attempt it.

Griffin pries open his eyes as David starts setting him down on a... park bench? The American won't meet his gaze as he goes about inspecting Griffin's ankle, then his arms, before his chest and finally his face. David somehow still manages not to make eye contact, set on inspecting every inch of Griffin before he pushes him away. Upon realizing this, Griffin supposes he really should lash out at him at the very least, and escape as fast as he can, but he instead remains still, eyes still a bit unfocused, but concentrating on David.

"Where the bugger are—"

"Rome," David interrupts quickly, pulling his hand back from Griffin's chest and getting to his feet once again. "It seemed... safe. At the time." Griffin watches him with taught lips, before starting to struggle into a sitting position. David looks as if he is going to protest, even moving forward a little bit, but he quickly stops himself at Griffin's glare.

"Why did you come back?" he manages to get out once he's sitting properly on the bench, that drinking fountain a bit behind David starting to look very tempting. The other doesn't seem to notice his need, and shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he tips his head back to look up at the sky, wanting to focus anywhere but Griffin.

"I didn't know if I'd be able to save Millie, if I even had a chance. I... guess I knew you would have thrown yourself headfirst into that fight, bomb or no bomb, and face it, Griffin: that plan was awful at best. You'd have blown the entire block to shit, if you'd even managed to get it there without getting trapped." Griffin opens his mouth to protest, prepared to rant on how long he'd been planning this, how sure he'd been that he could have pulled it off. "I couldn't take the risk that you'd get yourself killed."

Griffin closes his mouth at that, but only just, and out of lack of an adequate response. Or, really, any response at all, so of course his mind jumps to insults. "Yer a right proper wanker, you know tha'?" David just smiles in a relieved way and drops his gaze to the dirt at Griffin's shoes.

"Do you have somewhere you can recover? I don't think that your lair is safe, and you... you can't stay with me. I have stuff I need to do." Griffin snorts and shakes his head again.

"Can you not even take care 'a the damsels you save?" While meant entirely teasingly and spitefully, David gives him this sad smile that has Griffin shutting up pretty quick, with no effort to not look surprised.

"No, it seems that isn't my strong-point." Griffin's stomach gives way, just a little bit, because sure that means Millie didn't— "She's alive, if that's what you're thinking. I took her back to her mom's."

"Then what are you on about?"

"Would you want to see me again after getting you involved in a secret war and almost getting you killed? What kind of person wants to spend their life running and stealing?" Griffin keeps his mouth shut about that, knowing it's a rhetorical question; David _know_s Griffin doesn't mind a life like that, pretty much at all, and Millie is a good kid, that much is obvious. But David poses a phenomenon, only guilty for stealing because Millie didn't think it was right; David is too kind for his own good, and yet, he has no qualms with Jumping into a bank and nearly cleaning it out.

"No, I suppose not." A tense weight settles over the two of them that Griffin is sure was not there before, attempting to swallow once again. Of course, his throat sticks like sandpaper and causes him to cough, almost succeeding in breaking the tension, but then David is looking at him with an intense, half-tortured expression, almost apologetic, and Griffin recoils some.

"Wait here." David Jumps without saying anything else, then reappears next to the drinking fountain, holding a cherry-red mug with the Tower of Piza on it that he fills carefully. He walks back instead of Jumps, pulling a raised eyebrow from the other as he passes over the mug.

"Maybe you are a gentleman," he mutters, before he is too preoccupied with draining the mug.

"I really don't think I should be considered one. Not after what happened."

"Look, I don' really give a shite about how fucked you were with yer girlfri—"

"I was talking about leaving you like that." Griffin, really quite not expecting the interruption, turns his gaze up to David with his lips drawn and eyebrows knit.

"No, I can' say that was very gentlemanly of you." David breaths out a sigh and slings a backpack from his shoulders that Griffin hadn't noticed before, tossing it at the foot of the bench.

"I don't think you'll want me following you to your hideout," he mumbles, adjusting his jacket some. "So I'll leave you to it. If we... run into each other again, please don't try to kill me?" Griffin is fully prepared to attack that idea and tell him just exactly _why_ he would have every reason to kill him on sight, but David Jumps before he gets the chance.

And Griffin doesn't follow.

* * *

**A/N**: So, uh, the Jumper is an awful movie, and I don't even ship this, but I needed something to cope with how bad the movie ended up being. So vague shipping and all around not caring. Yayyy. My apologies to any of my Homestuck readers.


End file.
